“Come, Archie, none of that,” said his
brother. “It is my uncle’s trade.”
“Hugh,” said the rector, “unless
you can think of it so, you will find no comfort.”
“And I expect none, so there is an end of that.
Different people think of these things differently,
you know, and it is of no more use for me to bother
you than it is for you to bother me. My boy has
gone, and I know that he will not come back to me.
I shall never have another, and it is hard to bear.
But, meaning no offence to you, I would sooner be
left to bear it in my own way. If I were to talk
about grass, as Archie did just now, it would be a
humbug, and I hate humbug. No offence to you.
Take some wine, uncle.” But the rector could
not drink wine in that presence, and therefore he
escaped as soon as he could. He spoke one word
of intended comfort to Lady Clavering, and then returned
to the rectory.
Yes; Wrong—Certainly Wrong
Harry Clavering had heard the news of his little cousin’s
death before he went to Bolton Street to report the
result of his negotiation with the count. His
mother’s letter with the news had come to him
in the morning, and on the same evening he called
on Lady Ongar. She also had then received Mrs.
Clavering’s letter, and knew what had occurred
at the park. Harry found her alone, having asked
the servant whether Madam Gordeloup was with his mistress.
Had such been the case he would have gone away, and
left his message untold.
As he entered the room his mind was naturally full
of the tidings from Clavering. Count Pateroff
and his message had lost some of their importance
through this other event, and the emptiness of the
childless house was the first subject of conversation
between him and Lady Ongar. “I pity my
sister greatly,” said she. “I feel
for her as deeply as I should have done had nothing
occurred to separate us—but I cannot feel
for him.”
“I do,” said Harry.
“He is your cousin, and perhaps has been your
friend?”
“No, not especially. He and I have never
pulled well together; but still I pity him deeply.”
“He is not my cousin, but I know him better
than you do, Harry. He will not feel much himself,
and his sorrow will be for his heir, not for his son.
He is a man whose happiness does not depend on the
life or death of any one. He likes some people,
as he once liked me; but I do not think that he ever
loved any human being. He will get over it, and
he will simply wish that Hermy may die, that he may
marry another wife. Harry, I know him so well!”
“Archie will marry now,” said Harry.
“Yes; if he can get any one to have him.
There are very few men who can’t get wives,
but I can fancy Archie Clavering to be one of them.
He has not humility enough to ask the sort of girl
who would be glad to take him. Now, with his
improved prospects, he will want a royal princess
or something not much short of it. Money, rank,
and blood might have done before, but he’ll
expect youth, beauty, and wit now, as well as the
other things. He may marry after all, for he is
just the man to walk out of a church some day with
the cookmaid under his arm as his wife.”
